


Filling in the Gaps I: Filler

by inkandchocolate



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-28
Updated: 2010-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandchocolate/pseuds/inkandchocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have to work at friendship, sometimes harder than you know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filling in the Gaps I: Filler

**Author's Note:**

> IMPROV #5: sepia, wish, memory, revenge  
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I don't know what it is about these two. I'm obsessed with them lately.  
> DEDICATION: ethrosdemon HRH, partner in insanity, Chief Bull Whipper, and General Beta Goddess. Nothin' but love for ya, babe.
> 
> Companion Piece to ethrosdemon's Fulfillment

Company is strangely easy to get addicted to.

So when Anya starts working more hours, and Buffy gets all wigged about Riley patrolling with her, the two guys just sort of fall into the habit of hanging out. Most nights Riley shows up, pizza in one hand, beer in the other, and they watch bad TV together.

The comfort level is way up there for Xander. He hasn't had a guy-friend to bond with since...since Jesse, and that memory hurts so he tucks it away until later. Right now he can concentrate on the long lost patter of man-speak while Riley asks if he's ready for another brew and then tosses it to him without waiting for an answer and segues right into the score of the game last night.

It's like discovering this big hole inside of you that you didn't know you needed to fill until the filling showed up and jumped right in. In this case, the filling was six feet and then some of corn fed Iowa Boy. Who knew he would fit into that Jesse-sized place in Xander's needful zone?

Little by little, one six pack and pepperoni double cheese at a time, Riley becomes a fixture. It's... nice. Normal. It's the one normal thing in the entire weird reality that Xander deals with every day, so he gets very attached to it. It lessens his panicky outlook on where he might be going in life, or more to the point, where he might *not* be going. How bad can life be when he has a job, a girlfriend, an apartment, and a buddy to drink beer and watch the game with?

Like anything Xander has ever felt comfortable with, it all goes to hell.

The first time Riley doesn't show, Xander's actually pretty cool about it. He takes the extra time and fills it up with domestic shit that he was avoiding. He cleans most of the weird things he can no longer reasonably identify out of the fridge, and sorts his laundry into 'wearable' and 'beg mom to wash' piles. He waits for Anya to come over and then forgets all about Riley for a while, as he sinks into an entirely different level of comfort.

He doesn't even mention it when Riley comes back the next night, and the next, and then Xander's happily back in the routine. So when Riley skips two nights in a row, Xander feels well within his rights to give him a call. See what's up. Make sure he's OK. Leaves a jokingly casual message on the answering machine and tries not to feel abandoned. Succeeds marginally well, but not well enough to get it past Anya.

She asks him right away if he and Riley have broken up, and he goes through the whole process of explaining how they don't have that kind of relationship. How friends don't 'break up.' And he realizes he's actually telling it to himself as much as he's telling it to her. So he distracts her with enthusiastic kissing that leads to enthusiasms of another kind, and the night melts away.

Two weeks later, Riley is MIA more often than not, and Xander gets the weirdest vibes from him when he does show. He's so tense, like he's been mainlining caffeine, his jaw is clenched whenever he isn't talking. Xander finds himself opening his mouth about a hundred times to say something, to ask what's been going on or what's happened to him lately. He stops himself every time because he can't make it come out in a way that doesn't remind him of Anya's 'break up' comment. That's a bridge he didn't want to even look at on a map, let alone cross. It fucks up the whole normal guy thing.

Xander *so* wants it to just be the normal guy thing; it's refusing to cooperate. He realizes this with complete clarity when his hand bumps Riley's during a beer exchange, and the touch causes them both to jump. When he glances up, Riley's eyes are sort of dazed and he looks like he got one more punch than he was able to take.

"OK, I don't care if I sound like a girl, I have to ask you. Riley, are we breaking up?" He's only half joking so he compensates with a big ol' patented Xander-doofus-grin. Completely ignores the way his heart rate is galloping along.

"I know we've been drinking a while tonight, but did I miss a crucial part of the evening?" The dazed look is still there but a little more of the old Riley comes back to Xander's immense relief. This is the guy he can talk to.

"Sorry, too much time with Anya. What I mean is, is everything OK?" Pause. Sip of beer for courage. "Is there anything you want to talk about? You know, man to man, guy to guy?"

"I'm fine, really. Just, you know, still compensating for the whole Government issue drug addiction thing, I guess." Riley won't meet his eyes, though, and he sits down on the couch so the TV is right in his line of sight.

That's kind of the final straw, Xander thinks, and he sets the beer down with a thud on the table. He turns halfway on the couch and leans forward, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration and more than a little irritation. "Look, Riley, I think we're past the point of being formal with each other. I know you only come over here because the rest of your reindeer won't let you play their games anymore. But I think we get along really well, and it's great to be able to watch a game and not have to explain why the man with the whistle keeps stopping everything."

Riley's half turned himself now, and he's looking at Xander warily out of the corner oh his eyes. He doesn't say anything, but his jaw is clenched again, and the muscle there is twitching from the pressure.

"So," Xander continues, "I really think it's kind of my job to tell you that you're full of shit." Wonders idly if it's possible to break a molar from gritting your teeth that hard.

That gets Riley's full attention; he's looking right at Xander now and for a minute there's something scary in the air, something black and angry and completely un-Riley. Then it's gone with an almost audible snap when he stands.

"I don't need this from you," he says, fists tight at his sides as he stomps past Xander's legs on his way to the door. He moves fast for such a big guy, so even though Xander is right up after him, he misses his shoulder when he makes a grab for it. Gets a handful of sweater instead, and the words 'Riley, I'm sorry' dry up to dust in his mouth.

Because he sees the marks. There's far too many of them on his neck and shoulder; raw, angry, red bites on top of faded sepia bruises. Xander stands there, fistful of shirt in his suddenly sweaty hand until Riley jerks his arm once hard and pulls away. He fixes Xander with a look that screams out confusion and pain in equal measure, and then slams out the door.

Xander waits just a few minutes too long, wondering when Riley got attacked, and why no one had said anything about it. He hesitates there another minute, letting the image of the marks...all of them...burn into his brain in technicolor. More than one mark. More than one bite. Not all of them in the same condition. And Xander really doesn't like where this path is leading, because it's too familiar in all kinds of ways. And it's very very not of the good.

Then he's out the door, no idea where he's headed, just knowing he's going to get some answers and make sure that there's no Riley sized hole inside of him in the near future.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Willie's bar is the last place a nice clean cut all American guy like Riley Finn would go. It's the first place Xander tries. The place is pretty empty, and it's dishearteningly easy to tell he's not there. Without Buffy there to provide the muscle, Willie himself is all kinds of discreet. Until Xander lets his wallet do the convincing for him.

"Yeah, yeah, Commando boy's been in here a few times. He has a drink or two, he don't make no trouble, so I don't ask no questions. I'm not looking to mess with any of the Slayer's people, OK? Just...go sit in the corner. Maybe he'll come in if he doesn't see you lurking right here at the front door." Amazing how helpful Willie can be when he's been introduced to a few dead presidents.

Xander takes a chair at the end of the bar in the shadows, halfway behind the shelving. Willie makes him buy a beer; Xander regards it with great disgust, allows it to grow warm and flat while he waits. He feels completely incompetent just sitting here, but there's no place else to go, at least there's a chance he'll show.

The door slams open with a bang that most of the patrons ignore. Xander's eyes widen when he sees Buffy, and he presses himself back against the wall. There's not a chance in hell he's going to tell her what he's doing here.

How's that little scenario gonna go: "Hey Buffster, I been hanging out with your boyfriend, Captain America. Did you know he's been the All You Can Suck Buffet for some big bad nasties lately"?

OK, that decides it. As he keeps one eye on Buffy - who's deeply involved in terrorizing Willie at the moment - he slips off the stool, and slides down the hallway towards the back room.

The door is unlocked and Xander slips inside, closing it silently behind him. It's dark in there, there's looming shapes that are probably boxes of liquor. But just in case, he takes out the stake that always sits in his back pocket, and holds it loosely in his right hand. He doesn't move, lets his eyes adjust to the gloom, and the blindness makes his hearing sharper. There's someone - or some *thing*- in here with him. He's suddenly desperately in love with his stake.

He can hear the whispery little sounds better now, and his eyes are getting used to the darkness. Back in the far corner is a big shape, huddled against the wall, moving a little, and Xander knows it's Riley even before he gets close enough to be sure. There's a vampire with him, a female, and she's got her face buried in his neck. Riley's eyes are closed, lost in the pain or the pleasure; Xander can't quite judge the expression on his face.

With a tiny noise of anger, Xander steps forward and thrusts the stake into the vamp, leaning hard into the blow so that it pierces cleanly. Riley's eyes flutter open, and he blinks owlishly at Xander, face devoid of emotion.

"What the hell are you doing?" Riley asks, his voice weak and breathless.

"No, see that's my line," Xander snaps back, running a hand through his dusty hair so that he doesn't clench it into a fist and smash Riley right in his face, which is what he wants to do so badly that it makes him shake.

"I've got it all under control." Riley waves a stake at him, and then adjusts his sweater, trying to cover the new marks. "I didn't need your help."

"Right. You were going to let her drink until she exploded, I guess. Oh, or maybe you were going to let her drain you, and then hope the weight of your dead body crushes her when it falls on her? Oh wait, I know. You're going to let her turn you and have your revenge by making her deal with your stupid ass for all eternity." Big breath now, swallowing down some of the fear and anger.

Riley's got his head down, hands on his knees, and Xander knows he's dizzy from the beer and the blood loss, but he's got no sympathy left right now. He reaches out and grabs his arm and hauls him up. Gets right in his pale face and really looks at him, looks into blue eyes that are hollow and shadowed and familiar somehow. Riley's as different from Jesse as a guy can get, but that fucking empty look in his eyes is the same one Jesse had right before he dusted, one he wishes and prays never to see again in anyone he knows or cares for.

That's all it takes, Xander pushes hard, slams Riley into the wall, enjoys the grunt of pain he gets in response. "What's so wrong in your life that you need to do this, huh?" He's yelling now, but he doesn't really care. "What is so fucked up that you're going around committing suicide a pint at a time?"

"You wouldn't understand." He's not even resisting, he's just letting Xander push him around. He's like a big overgrown rag doll now, and if his knees give out, they're both going to go down because Xander is right on top of him.

"I wouldn't understand? What wouldn't I understand? Tell me, Riley. Tell me what it's like to have no job. Tell me what it's like to love someone who doesn't return your feelings. Tell me what it's like to feel like you're worthless." Xander laughs now, low and harsh. "Yeah, you tell me all about it, because how would I ever know about any of that?"

He lets go then, steps back. "Do you think she'll love you more when you're dead?"

And that's just perfect, because now Riley starts to cry. Not big gulping embarrassing crying, like Willow when she's upset. This is the scary silent kind, the kind that says there's not even enough left inside for the hysterics.

Xander puts a tentative hand out, touches Riley's shoulder, feels the way the other man is shaking. "Riley..." His voice falters, and then he just grabs a hold and pulls Riley in, holds him with warmth, and friendship. Lets him rest the weight of his body and his loneliness on Xander's shoulders for a change. Wonders how long its been since Riley had anyone touch him with anything like real affection. Imagines it's been a long time since he was with Buffy, judging by the marks on his neck.

"You're not alone," Xander tells him quietly. "I might not be able to do that whole hand signal stealth guy patrol thing, but I'm pretty damn good at other stuff."

There's a small intake of breath at that, and some of the shaking in Riley's body begins to quiet. "I hate to break this to you, but the ability to eat three slices of pizza at one time isn't really considered a talent," he says, sounding almost normal, if a bit congested.

"Neither is that hand thing, but I was gonna let you slide."

They're still standing there, leaning on one another, and Xander thinks it should start to feel awkward. But it doesn't. It feels comfortable - no, comforting. It feels safe. He remembers the jolt he'd gotten earlier from the brush of their hands back in his apartment, and it's like some historic event from a hundred years ago. Something important to be marked and remembered.

Somewhere in the middle of the bonding process that Xander had been so sure was going to be a regular guy thing, it's become something else without either of them realizing how much they needed it. Xander thinks that maybe he's not the only one with person sized gaps in their life, and maybe Riley's just finding out he has one that Xander fills like it was custom made for him. When Riley draws back and looks at him, his face is so different from what Xander's gotten used to seeing lately that he almost doesn't realize what's caused the change. It's the clenched jaw that's missing, though, and the cast away eyes.

In an oddly intimate gesture, Xander reaches up and brushes his thumb across Riley's cheek, smearing the tracks of dried tears. Riley looks startled and then relieved. Drops his head down slowly to rest his forehead on Xander's.

"Let's go, soldier boy," Xander says. "Time to get out of here. I think you need to get some rest."

Xander steps away, checking to be sure Riley's not going to collapse as soon as he lets go, and then checks out the door. There's no sign of Buffy other than the big honkin' bruise on Willie's cheek, and that's about the first thing that's gone completely right tonight.

The two of them hustle out of there, and Xander helps Riley back to his own apartment. Gets out the first aid kit and cleans up the wound, resolutely ignores the other scars he sees on Riley's arms at the bend of his elbow. Finds him some juice and makes him drink it, even though Riley swears he's fine now.

The scars Riley bears are just the outside wounds. The fact that his fridge is stocked with enough orange juice to support the state of Florida's crop growers for about a year just tells Xander that he hasn't stumbled onto something that was done on the spur of the moment. Ever the boy scout, Riley is well prepared for what he's been doing, in an odd, freaky way that Xander finds kind of funny and more than a little familiar.

Xander's not innocent enough to believe that tonight has fixed everything. But he likes to think that it's a good start.

~end


End file.
